


how could i forget what we once had

by redledgers



Category: Marvel Cinematic Universe
Genre: Bucky Barnes Remembers, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, F/M, Post-Civil War (Marvel)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-05-22
Updated: 2016-05-22
Packaged: 2018-06-10 02:41:19
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6935560
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/redledgers/pseuds/redledgers
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s three in the morning when her phone rings, and Natasha groans, fumbling for the offending tech and answering with a husky “Hello?”</p><p>Because he's remembered her.</p>
            </blockquote>





	how could i forget what we once had

**Author's Note:**

  * For [anomalocaris](https://archiveofourown.org/users/anomalocaris/gifts).



It’s three in the morning when her phone rings, and Natasha groans, fumbling for the offending tech and answering with a husky “Hello?”

“I need you in Serbia.” Steve’s voice wakes her up more than it has any right to, and she rolls onto her back.

“Why?”

“Because Bucky is hurt and he’s asking for you.”

 _Shit._ Natasha sits up. “Lay low. I’m taking the first flight I can get.” She hangs up and digs her go bag out of the closet. There’s some men’s clothing she keeps around for just this sort of event, and she shoves those in as well.

 _You could at least recognize me_.

It had been a desperate plea, a grasping last chance to maybe, just maybe, keep something good from her past. And now, somehow, he’s asking for her. She doesn’t know why, but the faster she can get to him, the sooner she will find out.

The cab she calls to go to the airport grumbles, because flights this early should not exist, but Natasha is able to get a connecting flight leaving at 5. If she’d been able to take a quinjet, she could get there in a matter of hours, but those resources were lost to her now.

Steve texts her the address of a motel on the outskirts of a city, and she arrives there at night with a bag of groceries. Bucky is lying on one of the beds, exhausted, armless, and clearly in pain. Steve looks up at her when she enters. She shoves the grocery bag in his lap and goes to the bed.

“Natalia?” He is unsure, and she bites her lip and squeezes her eyes shut. There’s no reason for her to react this way, but with confirmation of her hopes, she can’t help herself.

“Hello, James.” Natasha just manages the words.

Although she greets him in English, he responds in Russian, their past connection bubbling forth. She wonders what triggered these memories. If he remembers her, she wonders what else he might know, who he is right now, and whether or not she can rely on this to stay.

“I remember you,” he says quickly. “My Natalia, you’re still here.”

“I am,” she replies, taking a steadying breath. She is stronger than tears, but they are a long time coming.

His arm has been torn off, wires and tech exposed but thankfully not flickering with electricity. Natasha feels Steve’s eyes on her as she pulls a pair of leggings out of her bag and tears them so she can make a sleeve to cover the exposed arm. Bucky is quiet as she ties it off. He accepts painkillers from her and swallows them down dry, coughing briefly, but he is okay.

When she is finished, he murmurs softly in Russian, apologizing for eating her chocolate. It takes her a moment to remember the quinjet was equipped with a weapons stash for her and also some chocolate bars. She smiles softly and feels for a fever, asks Steve if they sustained any more injuries, and then passes out clean clothes.

“I thought you might need a change out of your uniforms,” she says to Steve when Bucky manages to get to the bathroom to wash up.

“Thank you.” Steve smiles at her, and she notices that he looks weary for once, done with the world.

Natasha pulls out the bananas she purchased and hands him one. “You said he asked for me?”

“When we found Zola, he called you Natalia Alianovna. When Bucky collapsed on the quinjet floor, he was repeating that over and over. If there was someone who could answer that question, it would be you.”

She means to respond, but Bucky has entered into the room again, looking more relaxed in sweatpants. He drops heavily onto the bed again, the adrenaline worn off, and gratefully accepts the fruit.

Steve showers and comes out, and Natasha is sitting on the bed beside Bucky, carding her fingers through his hair as he eats. He gives them a strange look, but climbs onto the second bed. “I was going to tell you that you were welcome to use the other bed, but I’m going to assume that you’re not willing to.”

Natasha looks at him, grateful. She knows there are questions he wants to ask, but he is refraining from them until they’ve moved elsewhere. When Bucky is finished eating, she curls up against his side, where she would normally be tucked underneath his metal arm, and closes her eyes. It is as if she is guarding his weaker side. She sleeps well, and from the way the men look when everyone wakes up, so did they.

“What’s next?” she asks, putting together breakfast with the food she brought. “Tony isn’t going to help replace his arm, is he.”

Steve shakes his head, steely-eyed. “Scott might be able to help, the size changing guy in Berlin. If we knew where Bruce was, he could too.”

“T’Challa may be able to help as well,” she replies softly with a shrug.

Bucky watches her, shoveling food into his mouth. His actions remind her of how he would do it years ago, in a time that is mostly forgotten. She wants so badly to hold him, take him out and let him order everything on the menu, but they cannot do that, not here, not just yet.

Natasha gives him the rest of the loaf of bread, instead, and lingers by his side.

“I trust Scott, he might have some friends.” Steve watches their interaction.

Bucky nods his agreement with Steve. He nuzzles into Natasha’s stomach as thanks for the bread. “It hurts,” he says when she touches his shoulder gently.

The ball drops. “I thought you didn’t know who he was,” Steve says after a moment. “You told me he was a ghost story.”

“You told him that?” Bucky looks up at her, chin pressed gently against her abdomen.

“I was born sometime during the 50s,” Natasha says bluntly.

Steve is shocked. A little suspicious, as well, that she is telling him a lie. “How?”

She shrugs. “Same way you survived being frozen. But SHIELD records don’t like it when people are unnaturally old, and so I made something up.”

“She was the best,” Bucky says, holding her in place with his arm until he realized he couldn’t eat at the same time. He frowns, and lets her go to pull slices out of the bag.

“I still am the best,” Natasha corrects.

It’s clear that Steve doesn’t want to push it any further for the time being. Bucky isn’t showing much restraint when it comes to displaying their past relationship. Natasha can only wonder if the wheels are turning in Steve’s head, if he is reformatting his view of her.

The trio finishes eating, and Steve suggests they leave the motel and go back to New York. It makes the most sense, Bucky is looking better and the longer they wait, the more frustrated he might become with the lack of arm.

Begrudgingly, Natasha agrees to let them lay low in her apartment while they contact who they need to. She helps them gather their things and neaten the room. On the quinjet, Bucky slips back into Russian and compliments how well she keeps her weapons. He wants to know if she remembers the same things he does. He remembers when they were taken from each other, remembers the screaming when they wiped her. He does not remember anything after that (and she does not tell him he shot her years ago in Odessa).

Steve refuses to settle, and once they get to Natasha’s apartment, he goes off to find Sam. Natasha orders takeout and showers after it comes, letting Bucky have some before she eats. She finds herself to be more tired than she likes, and goes to nap. Hesitantly, Bucky asks if he can join.

“Of course,” she replies, more concerned about his exhaustion than anything. Again, she tucks herself against his left side. The proximity feels familiar, more so now in her own bed than in a strange motel, and she wakes up in a pleasant haze, nosing the scruff on Bucky’s jaw.

He moves his head to face her and kisses her languidly, and she feels something she hasn’t felt in a while. A hungry noise slips from her throat and she would be embarrassed if she weren’t so comfortable around him. She feels his finger trace her waistband, and she hums.

It takes some maneuvering after his fingers touch her, and the feeling is electric. Natasha comes undone in a few short minutes. It’s better when she gets her pants off and kneels above his face, still shivering from the last orgasm. She scratches his scalp gently, the way he used to like, and he holds her there as best he can while he licks at her with abandon.

He seems unaffected, apparently able to tamp down any possible needs, and holds her close when she drapes her wrung out body on top of his. She feels guilty, he has only known her again for two days, but he tells her it doesn’t matter.

When she regains some composure, she kisses him again, soft and lingering. Bucky kisses back like he’ll never have another chance, the way he knows he should have when the cracks in his memories revealed after he broke away from conditioning.

“I brought groceries back,” Steve says out of nowhere, interrupting them.

Smoothly, Natasha gets off of Bucky and pulls on pants, keeping eye contact with Steve the entire time. “I appreciate it,” she says, brushing by him to investigate what he brought back.

She’s perched on the counter with some quick sketches Scott had made when they come back into the kitchen. She hands them to Bucky when he approaches her.

“So Scott thinks he can do it?”

“He’s going to have to look at what’s left over, but he thinks he can get at least something basic out quickly.” Steve takes the package of meat next to the fridge and opens it, turning on the stove. “We’re going tomorrow.”

Natasha washes her hands and begins to help him, finding something for a side dish. She appreciates the sort of normalcy Steve is trying to establish while they’re here. It’s an odd situation, and she doesn’t know how to navigate it or separate her newfound emotions from any actions beyond fixing Bucky’s arm.

The look Bucky gives her as he watches her help Steve leads her to the conclusion that he also doesn’t know what’s next.

**Author's Note:**

> Okay confession: I never watched Ant Man.
> 
> So I'm realizing now that Scott probably wouldn't be the one to go to but Hank might be, but whatever, right? Because this is a buckynat fic and who gives a fuck about technicalities.


End file.
